


Apologies for the Progressives

by RemoCon



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:18:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemoCon/pseuds/RemoCon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the best lessons are the hardest to learn. </p>
<p>(Or Gimli and Legolas have a much needed chat)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apologies for the Progressives

The fires burned low, but the cries of celebration still sounded throughout Minis Tirith. Gimli son of Gloin was just drunk enough to feel the tug of melancholy in his chest. Across the hall Merry and Pippin were enthusiastically attempting to teach everyone around them some kind of game, no doubt very popular in the Shire. The hour, and the drinking, meant more laughter and nonsensical arm gestures than actual playing, but neither the hobbits nor their companions seemed to care in the least.

There were many who hadn't lived to see such carefree times. Perhaps after all these years, there were still two deaths that grieved his heart the most.

The flames pierced his eyes more for their growing scarcity, shadows swimming across his vision. Beside him, Legolas stirred. If Legolas were anyone else, Gimli might have thought he'd fallen asleep. As it stood, the hand on his shoulder startled him-- he'd been trying too hard not to stare at Merry and Pippin.

"Is everything well, my friend?" Legolas asked, his voice low but clear enough to carry through the singing that had started up again. Aragorn would not soon have another party in this great hall. Only a newfound sense of kingly duty and Arwen's hand in his own had kept him from stealing off long ago.

"Just need some air," Gimli grunted the moment his feet found the floor, finding that either the ground was swaying gently, or he was more gone than he'd thought.

Legolas trailed after, doing his best impression of a man neither concerned nor amused by his friend's behavior. On occasion, Gimli could still hear his father (and indeed, all of his kinsmen) recounting the many failures of the elves-- foremost of which was their sheer arrogance, that despicable belief that simply by virtue of their immortality they knew better than the other races. He hoped someday he could show his father that what they mistook for arrogance was in fact the deepest concern for life.

Except, of course, when it was wasn't. But he needn't tell his father straight away that even the annoying little vanities-- the constant bathing, the occasion pettiness when losing a contest-- did nothing but endear Legolas to him now.

Outside, the air had cooled. Legolas stopped beside him, close enough that their arms pressed against one another. Gimli shivered with an ill-timed breeze.

"Shall I fetch you a coat?" Legolas teased.

"Ach, what kind of dwarf would I be if a small chill like this could do me in?" But he too, smiled, some of the peculiar gloom of the late hours slipping away into the darkness. Even the stars glowed more brightly than ever before, the heavens celebrating along with the earth. It would not do to dwell long on past hurts on such a night.

For a moment, then another, they passed the time in silence. There was the normal companionship he had come to expect, yet there was an air of anticipation in the quiet. He had come outside to escape the old ghosts but perhaps the time had come to finally speak what had been growing between them. If ever there was a night for new beginnings, surely there could be none better than this.

Just when Gimli had worked up his resolve to speak, Legolas beat him to it.

"It is a beautiful night," Legolas said, gazing upwards. Gimli murmured his agreement. "I wonder if, in all our time together, I have mentioned my friend Tauriel."

"No," Gimli said, surprising himself with the roughness of his voice. "Never has that name crossed your lips."

The way Legolas spoke of her. It was reverent, and yet, the way his voice rolled over the word friend, as Gimli had thought to only ever be directed at him. He found himself longing for the melancholy of a minute ago. It had been less bitter, and easier to take.

Legolas looked down at him, Gimli refused to do less than meet his eyes. When he found the elf smiling, he felt something he wanted to label anger, but that felt more like loss.

"I think you misunderstand me," Legolas said lightly.

"You asked if you had spoken of this Tauriel. You have not. Seems clear to me," Gimli replied.

"Perhaps," Legolas said. "Would you permit me a moment to tell you a story, then? It has been years since I have thought of her, but tonight she is very present in my mind."

"Go on," Gimli responded shortly.

"This was some time ago, just as the enemy was starting to reveal himself in earnest. Back when there was a quest to reclaim a homeland, and a group of dwarves who lost their way in the domain of a certain Elven king. Tauriel was captain of the guard, and so she and I went to assist them, with a few others."

"That," Gimli said, smiling in spite of himself, "is not how the story goes."

"No? I am fairly certain we rescued at least a handful of dwarves from a group of particularly vicious spiders."

"You may find my patience wearing thin, if your story is nothing but arguing the semantics of you imprisoning my father and cousins," Gimli said. Legolas chuckled.

"Fair. Then allow me to continue," he replied, the stars reflecting most unfairly from his eyes. "I had known Tauriel for some time."

Yes-- Gimli had forgotten. The point of this tale.

"I was fond of her. More than fond, true be told," Legolas said wistfully. "She had the most beautiful red hair, and this brilliant spirit that refused to be broken, even by my father's will. I knew no one else quite like her, then."

"You must be very pleased to be able to return to her now," Gimli snapped, pulling away.

"My story is not nearly finished, master dwarf," Legolas said calmly. "As I said, this all happened many years ago. The quest to reclaim Erebor was not mentioned for context. It is quite essential."

"I've heard the stories all my life. I doubt there is any part of it you can enlighten for me further," Gimli said. The chill seeped down into his bones. The cheer of the hall sounded far off. The only sounds now were Legolas's godforsaken story, and the thumping of his own heart.

"I do not mean to. I only mean to enlighten you-- ahh, you are a frustrating creature!" Legolas said, for an instance the very picture of a childish prince, face scrunched in annoyance. "I mean to tell you, Gimli, son of Gloin, that I hated dwarves because the woman I thought I loved ran off and gave herself to a dwarf instead!"

Surely not. The laughter bubbled out of Gimli before he could stop it, body-wracking guffaws. It was impossible.

"Which dwarf-- who could you possibly think," he wheezed. Legolas did not budge, his mouth now set in a firm line.

"He was very young, I think. Not much of a beard, dark hair," Legolas said, his eyes looking back over something from long ago. "I overheard them speaking, while he was imprisoned. He carried a talisman from his mother."

"Kili," Gimli whispered, before he knew what he said.

"I didn't know his name until later," Legolas said, nodding slightly. "Not until...not until it was all over."

Not until it was inscribed upon his tomb.

"I have never heard of this," Gimli said accusingly, though whether he was demanding answers from Legolas or his father, he wasn't sure.

"Except for one of Thorin Oakenshield's company, a barer of a funny hat, I believe that I am the only one survived that knew of this. I assume he never cared to speak of it. Until now, I never have. I wanted to remember her as she was before. I'm sure that dwarf felt the same for his part."

Legolas fell silent, giving time for questions to rise up in Gimli's throat, nearly none directed at him. How? Why? Had they been happy? Were you happy, Kili, before the end? It is a terrible burden to outlive one's friends. Sooner rather than later would come the day that Gimli, and Gimli alone would carry the memory of those who set off for the Lonely Mountain and never returned.

Except-- this one thing, this one piece of Kili.

"Why tell me this now?" Gimli asked finally.

"My friend, I thought that was obvious," Legolas said, a smile creeping back onto his face. "Tauriel has been on my mind tonight, because I would like to apologize."

"For what?"

"For not understanding, then, how she could love a dwarf. Now I do," Legolas said, his voice strong and his gaze trained squarely on Gimli's face.

"Oh," Gimli said, his heart flipping and flopping about relentlessly. But he would not be the dwarf he was, if he allowed Legolas to sweep him off his feet so easily. "A fine thing, since I know what it's like loving an elf."

Whether Gimli tugged Legolas towards him, or Legolas was already bending down, neither could say, but their lips met, and that was it.

Of course, it meant uncomfortable conversations with fathers. It meant trying to work out what the future could look like, when Gimli was destined to die, and Legolas was not.

But as Legolas threaded his finger into Gimli's hair, and he learned the exact shape and texture of Legolas's lips, it was easy to let those thoughts go. This was what peace meant.

"No way!"

"I told ya, Pip, pay up!"

The pair broke apart, heads turned back towards the hall where a couple of hobbits had emerged from. Pippin, giggling, dropped a few coins into Merry's outstretched hand. He waggled his eyebrows.

"We'll leave you to it, gents," Pippin said, slurring too much to be salicious. Merry looped his arm around his cousin's shoulder and the two sauntered off.

"They remind me, a little, of my cousins," Gimli said. "Fili and Kili."

"I see," Legolas said.

"You see," Gimli huffed, chuckling. "Don't think I couldn't hear the question rolling around in that pretty head of yours."

"So you think my head's pretty," Legolas said, his smile a little too big. That vanity, again. Gimli sighed the long suffering sigh of a man not really suffering at all. The sigh of a man in love.

"I'd like to hear more about them," Legolas said, serious for a moment. "When you feel like telling."

"I'll be glad to. Another time. We have other matters to attend to," Gimli said, cupping his hand to Legolas's face.

"Yes," Legolas agreed. And he leaned back in.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to pholgistics for the edits!


End file.
